


we were born to live here

by loveyouallwrong (drunktuesdays)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Marriage, Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunktuesdays/pseuds/loveyouallwrong





	we were born to live here

Patrick stands, with sweaty palms and a rapidly beating heart, because no matter how many times he does it, standing in front of a crowd without the weight of a guitar never gets any easier.

"Hey," he says, and clinks his fork against his glass. "I kind of want to do my speech, if you guys are done eating."

"I guess we are now," Dirty heckles, and Patrick flips him off easily, and catches Pete's grin out of the corner of his eye.

"Anyways," he says. "So I'm Patrick...Patrick Stump, and I've known Pete a long time. Long enough to wonder how the hell he pulled off a stunt like getting this lady right here to agree to marry him." The crowd laughs appreciatively, and Patrick relaxes a fraction. "No but seriously, I know everyone has heard the story of the first time I met Pete, because he has taken every chance he's had to make fun of what I was wearing. But what I've refrained from mentioning until right now, is what _he_ was wearing." Pete groans, and Patrick smirks. "Dude was wearing a 'beater, completely unironically. With some skanky-ass sweatpants."

Cash Colligan calls from the back, "Nothing wrong with that," all indignantly, and Joe nearly falls out of his chair from laughter.

"My point exactly," Patrick says, and Pete rolls his eyes and tries to look annoyed, and utterly fails. "What makes that story worth telling you right now," Patrick continues, "is that the first time I met Ashlee?" Patrick pauses and Ashlee's eyes narrow at him. "Totally wearing the same exact outfit she had grabbed from his closet." His friends and theirs roar with laughter, and Patrick raises his glass. "That's when I knew this was the real deal, that Pete had finally met his match. To total dorks in love," and the room echoes his toast, and Pete smiles, a soft smile that radiates through every part of his body in pure happiness, and Patrick echoes it right back.

Later, the happy couple tries to sneak away without fanfare, but the siren is sent, and they make their exit amongst catcalls and pleas for Ashlee to reconsider. Patrick sinks into a chair contentedly, and waves off another dance with Greta, in favor of watching his friends make total asses of themselves. Not ten minutes goes by however, but his phone buzzes in his pocket, one of the few phones allowed into the wedding. _where are u_ Patrick rolls his eyes, because he was _trying_ to give them some time, but he slips out, and makes his way to his car, to head to the honeymoon suite, aka Pete's basement.

It's been about seven months now, since this thing with them started, with Pete and Patrick casually (_regularly_) hooking up, and Ashlee admitting that maybe Pete was _exactly_ her type turned into Ashlee straddling Patrick's thighs one night in Pete's living room, licking into his mouth as Pete watched, slackjawed and awed. Four months since Patrick had realized it was no longer about the sex, but that it was Patrick sitting outside Ashlee's bathroom door, trying to get in, to take the sting from whatever her father had said this time, about Pete crawling in his bed again, nose cold against his neck, and Ashlee gracelessly flopping on the other side. Four months since he had the subsequent freak out that he was in a _domestic threesome, what the fuck_, and promptly avoided both of them for five long days before Ashlee accosted him outside a truck stop, smacked him upside the head and said, "I don't like feeling like I'm seven stealing my sister's toys again," and led him back to the bus, slightly less freaked out.

Three months since Ashlee walked into the living room, holding a little plastic stick in front of her, eyes wide, while Pete swung Patrick around, with a big stupid grin on his face. They had to tell their families, privately and quietly, holding hands on couches, while they took their turns saying, "Mom, Dad...the three of us are pregnant," (When Patrick's brother Kevin had asked cluelessly, "But who's the _father_?" it had taken both Pete and Ashlee to hustle Patrick out of there before he went postal.)

Patrick pulls into the driveway, and cuts the engine and thinks, one month since he had run into the bus, Ashlee laughing on his back, and both stopping abruptly, when Pete jumped back as if he'd been caught. Without prompting, he sheepishly revealed three rings, nestled small in the palm of his hand.

He enters the house without preamble, listens for voices in the basement, and still he boggles at where the past half-year has taken him. He sometimes still feels that twang of guilt, that little niggling voice that says _taking from Pete, relying on Pete, not fair to Pete_.

But then some nights, nights like tonight, when he descends the stairs, and finds blown up palm trees and Al Green on the radio, he thinks fiercely, _this is mine too._

Their eyes light up when they see him, and Ashlee pats the space in front of where she's kneeling, and says, "come on, come on, we're not done with the ceremonies yet."

"Stop harassing me," he says back, but he doesn't hesitate to drop to his knees in front of her.

She takes his hand, and Pete intones "Dearly beloved," and Patrick hides a smile into his shoulder. Ashlee isn't as successful, her hand flying up too slow to hide a snort. "Guys," Pete says exasperated, and Patrick is involuntarily drawn back years and years, to a freezing cold night, in the back of a van, when Pete had sang into his neck, "Patrick, Patrick, give me your answer true. I'm half-crazy all for the love of you."

"Yes," he had whispered then and Pete had instantly declared them married from that moment. He says it now, holding Ashlee's hand, thumb tracing the band on her ring finger. "I do."

Ashlee tightens her grip, and Pete blows out the candle he was holding. Patrick watches the wisp of smoke rise towards the ceiling before Pete tackles them down, the three of them still in their best finery, the fanciest pile of limbs Patrick has ever been in.


End file.
